This entry wasn’t supposed to go into a blog. Maybe because it could probably be considered an exercise in vanity resulting from it’s sheer self-indulgence, or simply because my writing abilities can never do enough justice to the feelings I went through during the event. For the sake of preservation, however, I need to log this on to the internet.

Having cursed the city enough for its lack of interesting things to do, I finally decided to take it upon myself to search the web as to whether my beliefs were a result of sheer lethargy. Amidst many interesting events, I came across a symphony orchestra event I thought could be quite interesting to attend, so was looking forward to it for some time. Luckily, everything fell into place, I, and along with a friend of mine, attended one this Friday: Bolcom, Bach and Beethoven.

Never have I felt such a gamut of emotions in a span of 2 hours, where my expectations were not only met, but exceeded to such an extent that I’m afraid of how the next one would be. I never knew time could compress itself so effectively that at the end of it, I was almost felt with an empty feeling, ironical, considering how fulfilling the experience had been.

Being a romantic at many things is a boon more often than not; simply because of the sheer pleasure it can bring you, when you’re completely immersed in the activity, completely oblivious of any form of existence around you. My views of the event certainly arise from such fanatical feelings and I have no qualms about saying how much importance this event had for me, and I would have been desolate had it not gone the way I imagined it. From the very first movement, where Balcom’s exploits with comical music (one that might be taken out of a Tom & Jerry cartoon) were being explored, I closed my eyes, and images started to flow seamlessly through my head. Every next wave resulted in a new image; every crescendo ran through the veins like adrenaline; the fire emanating from pure pleasure. As the conductor rightly put it, his music was a juxtaposition of senseless dreams, ones where you suddenly realize in the middle of the dream that this is too nonsensical to be true. Or even nightmares, with its inimitable unbelievable quirks in between. While listening to this music, the pictures that arise were of these very dreams, some which have been in the back of your memory, recalled solely for the purpose of respecting this piece.

Bach and Beethoven had similar flavors for one, the latter’s 4th symphony often considered his most mysterious. The music here went into the realms of love at one instant and mockery of the feeling in the other: one where a lover tries in vain to be resolute and face facts, where he later realizes how helpless in love he has been reduced to; where he tries convincing himself unsuccessfully of how strong he is.

The last piece was also very beautiful, and led me down memory lane to when I was a child, and all the small problems I faced then, probably what every child of my age would have faced. Each tenor was a character in my imagery: my favorite teacher, my mother, my childhood sweetheart, my best friend as a kid, my father; the chorus became the world; and the music, me.

Passion is the first quality towards understanding art. You’ll learn the technicalities later, but once you possess the fire, every other piece of information only fine tunes the experience. I for one, have miles to go before I say I “appreciate” art. For now, it’s probably my imagination that’s keeping me at bay .. :)

Disclaimer: This is a completely chauvinistic account resulting from my perceptions of the issue. This is not much of a disclaimer.

Little is unknown about the enigmatic art of chatting. And I don’t mean talking and yapping, I mean typing and yapping. One might, during a wave of ignorant abandon, trivialize this art form as nothing but a harmful form of talking in person. But there are several mysteries still to be unraveled, and I present here, an equally mysterious taxonomy, which many might find interesting.

For better dramatic effect, I shall present the evil side of the art first.

Evil?

If you are an obsessive compulsive chatter, you might cease to be social in daily conversation, and ‘save yourself’ for the chat sessions. This might obviously have a negative effect on your friendships and love life, outside the chat rooms i.e.

Your definition of sexual intimacy might be reduced to acronyms like hh (holding hands), not to mention, when you eventually encounter one of the real ones, you might be taken off guard.

If you’re a chatter on the lookout for your loved one to appear online, you might go through random bouts of depression in case the event doesn’t occur (of course, there are equally lofty highs.)

Necessary?

Many of us aren’t that skilled in the subtle art of speaking. Especially if elegance is diction hasn’t rubbed you the right way as yet, chatting can substantially mask away the deficiency.

Monologues aren’t considered rude. If you are one of the self-obsessed types, then you can type away to glory. And if you’re one of the select many, who don’t look at the screen while typing, then chatting is without doubt, your raison d’etre.

You can also make the other person feel special, if you can type fast and convince the other that you’re completely monogamous in chat. Also, if you have an impaired attention span, chatting might help reduce that perception of yours too.

On a more serious note, hitting the right balance while chatting can exponentially improve your quality of life. Of course, you might be visually impaired, your speaking abilities might go for a toss, you’re fingers might resemble a question mark after a while, the chiropractor might grow to be your closest friend; but having multiple chat-girlfriends, having a huge network of chat-friends with whom you have soulful conversations, and the power to explore schizophrenia – much outweigh the disadvantages mentioned before.

Disclaimer: Lack of creative material, in conjunction with a abundance of free time has forced me into writing the following. Please don’t judge my writing based on this, read my books on nihilism, they’re most enlightening.

Who would have thought a few years back that I would own a car. Well, for that matter, who would have thought 4 days back that I would own a car. Well, as you might have read before, I was having my troubles with the issue of buying a car, which started from having to obtain a license, which btw I procrastinated over a significant amount of time. Of course, given a choice, I wouldn’t have brought a car, but since the Austin public transport system can be categorized as bordering around being hilarious, I wasn’t left with a choice. Thankfully, lady luck seemed to have been quite impressed with my charms, me didn’t have much trouble through the entire process. Except of course, the interest rate for my loan makes me feel like a convict having to pay for the crimes committed in the past ( read: credit rating idiosynchracies ).

In any case, I got an Accord. Considered by many to be a family car, it can certainly pass off as a sports car, if you choose to overlook the 2 redundant doors, and the prominent big-family-car look to it. Since its a used car, it has its own advantages though. For instance, I love the way it vibrates during the seldom times I choose to press the gas pedal. I mean, seriously, its like force-feedback on the X-box or the sidewinder. What a rush ! Now, this car is kinda big, and my driving skills are not exactly impeccable either. I’m in a constant fear of whether one fine day, I reach home to realize that the 2nd half of the car is missing ! Far fletched maybe, but you haven’t seen me drive. My night driving skills are improving too. I can see about 10 meters from the front bumper now. Big improvement from total ignorance ( one of the times when it wasn’t exactly bliss ). I’m learning to use the subtle skill of braking. Things are certainly on an up …

The surprising part is, I’m beginning to enjoy the entire driving experience ! The wind blowing through my hair, the rush through my veins, the constant fear of disaster; driving is not something I dread every morning anymore! Thanks to a friend of mine who has been pestering me about my lack of skill in the area, given my incredible talent in all other spheres of life. I was wondering whether the primary objective of this person is to get rid of me by asking me to suck it up and drive, only time will tell about the intentions though !

I’m extremely sad today. Sadness resulting from when one is given C code (and the hairiest I’ve ever fathomed) to write in office, but C# memories are too hard to let go … :((